


The Storm In Our Hearts

by stormssnow (reketrebn)



Series: The Last Targaryens [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Jon is brooding, Romance, jon pov, jonerysweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 08:59:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12186939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reketrebn/pseuds/stormssnow
Summary: #Jonerysweek Day 4: Angst“They say I was born in a storm like this,” a melodic voice says behind him, and he hears light footsteps approaching him. Speaking of his heart... here it is – its desire. He’s still stunned by how quickly it came to be and how powerless it makes him feel.





	The Storm In Our Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the #jonerysweek - angst
> 
> It takes place between 7x03 and 04
> 
> yeah, what else other than angst would I write XD but anyway I started this drabble during a storm and then finished it for the appreciation week. so here you have it :) please enjoy!

 

 

Jon has never seen a storm like this. Sure, there were plenty of storms in the North but nothing like this one. The waves of the sea are rising high up to the sky and mingling with the water falling from above; the lightning is so bright - almost like fire.

He's standing by one of the windows in a dark hallway of this strange castle. It’s been weeks since he arrived and yet he still can’t shake the unsettling feeling in his gut. It's something between wrong and right, his mind fighting his instincts. He's torn between wanting to never leave and being homesick for the North. It’s as if his own blood is fighting him and splitting his heart in two.

“They say I was born in a storm like this,” a melodic voice says behind him, and he hears light footsteps approaching him. Speaking of his heart... here it is – its desire. He’s still stunned by how quickly it came to be and how powerless it makes him feel.

He turns around to face the Dragon Queen and gives her a small nod in greeting.

“Your Grace.” His voice is quiet and hoarse, stuck in his throat. Even now, he’s a bit awestruck by her beauty. Never in a million years would he have imagined he’d meet a Targaryen queen, exactly like the heroes from the stories he used to read as a boy. He still remembers all about Aegon and his sisterwives – the great warriors and their dragons. His biggest idol was The Young Dragon, Daeron conquering Dorne for one summer and dying just as young and betrayed.

And here she is, right in front of him, descendant of all those myths and legends. Even though she claims she doesn't believe in any gods or myths, he does and it makes him an even bigger fool.

He probably won’t be able to ever tell her how truly magnificent she seems to him, how absolutely terrifying it is to feel her anger crawling up his skin like flames and how much awe she brings out in him whenever he sees yet another side of her, when he sees her good heart.

She is as magical as her dragons.

 _There is no time for love during a war._ He has to physically make himself look away and back at the storming sea.

 _There is no love for Jon Snow._ He repeats this to himself and presses his lips even tighter.

“Are you afraid, my lord?” She asks him, probably misinterpreting his expression. He hears mirth in her lovely voice, mocking him still.

“No, of course not.” He tries to smile but it comes out more as a grimace so he shuts it down.

“There is no shame in being afraid of a storm. They can be deadly and terrible.” Daenerys comes closer and stands beside him, both of them looking at the raging sky outside.

 _Just like you_ , he thinks.

“They are also beautiful.” He says instead and he's glad she can't read his mind. Because in his opinion, she and the storm are very much alike.

"Yes, they are." She replies quietly, and silence falls between them for a moment. But his eyes betray him and return to her again. Daenerys looks other-worldly, cold as marble, and so, so blindingly beautiful it hurts to look at her. And yet, he can see she is human just like him. She is so fragile and petite, her skin soft as silk, but he can see how tired she is by the darker circles under her eyes. She is not what he had expected at all and she still keeps surprising him with each passing day.

"Tell me, Lord Snow, what does home mean to you?" Daenerys suddenly turns to him, and he almost doesn't catch her question. Jon blinks at her owlishly a few times and ponders about his answer.

"My family, Winterfell, The North, Ghost." She rises her eyebrow in question and he chuckles slightly, because of course she would be confused. "Apologies, Your Grace, Ghost is my direwolf. I've had him since he was a pup." Jon can't help a little adoring smile appearing after mentioning his dear friend, and the queen smiles a surprised one in return.

"A direwolf? Is it a custom to have them as pets in the North?" She asks, perplexed, and his smile only widens because her effort to get to know the customs of the North is simply adorable… or maybe just to him it is.

"No, Your Grace." He shakes his head and leans on the wall next to the window, looking at her fully now. "We found a litter of them in the woods; their mother was killed by a stag. I begged our father to keep them. There were just enough pups for my siblings, and then there he was: the rut of the litter." Jon chuckles again and looks out the window for a second.

"He's all white – a Snow like me." He turns back to her and catches her looking at him with a strange, amused expression he can't decipher.

"You are full of surprises, Jon Snow. King in The North and his white wolf - how poetic." Her own chuckle does something to his heart and it robs him of his breath for a beat.

 _There's no time for any of this._ His own words come back to him, and darkness crawls back from the corners of his mind.

_You are just a bastard boy, a Snow just like she said, you are not worthy of her even with a thousand titles on your head._

He wishes his mind would be quiet sometimes, and give him some peace, but today is not the day. He couldn't even leave it behind in the cold depths of death they pulled him from.

"We should both try to get some sleep. You look tired, Your Grace." Jon gathers his senses and steps back from her. Daenerys probably thinks he's shutting her out, and maybe he is, but there is only so much of her loveliness he can handle in one night, especially since she looks so awfully warm and inviting right now; all pink cheeks and soft eyes glittering with interest.

_You are not here to want things for yourself but for your people._

He bows his head as he retreats and wishes her good night.

"Good night, Jon Snow." Daenerys' voice echoes behind him, and her slightly confused expression is with him when he closes his eyes, but he keeps walking anyway.

Thunder cracks outside loud as a drum, and he can feel it to the core of his being and in his dead heart.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks as always to my beta Jess ♥


End file.
